


Asclepius' Secret

by doomcake



Series: rock you like a hurricane (30_ballads) [7]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Angst, Constellations, Drama, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Yamamoto, Hurt/Comfort, google makes me sound like I know more than I do, injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-29
Updated: 2009-12-29
Packaged: 2018-11-05 18:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11019021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doomcake/pseuds/doomcake
Summary: Two Mafiosi, contemplating the stars and the gods and the meaning of immortality.





	Asclepius' Secret

**Author's Note:**

> 2017 NOTES:  
> More transplants from LJ!
> 
> This was written to be intentionally ambiguous with the pairing. I was on a huge YamaGoku kick at the time, but I'd had a few readers from back in my strictly-gen days that had all but asked me to write something gen for this fandom, so I decided to write something to fit both. (I figured I liked both gen and pairing fic, so why not?)
> 
> I also wrote this to fill a couple of prompts for challenges I'd signed up for at the time (and never quite finished... lol oops). So this is the result of two separate prompts:
> 
> ① How to Save a Life - The Fray ([](http://30-ballads.livejournal.com/profile)[ **30_ballads**](http://30-ballads.livejournal.com/) mellow/alt [#7](http://www.livejournal.com/rsearch/?tags=%237))  
>  ② Gokudera/Yamamoto – star-gazing, “Don’t fade away.” ([](http://khrfest.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://khrfest.livejournal.com/) **khrfest** round 2)
> 
> Oh, and there's fanart by the incredible nuakiire/irenukia that goes with this! I'm not sure if the link will still work, but if it does, [](http://nuakiire.livejournal.com/13449.html#cutid1)**you can find it here**.

_“He who is fixed to a star does not change his mind.”_  
—Leonardo da Vinci

  
   


“You want to do _what_?”  
   
Yamamoto grins unabashedly, holding up a thermos of hot chocolate and a large wrapped bento. “It’s supposed to be a clear night tonight, and the park is open later than usual just for that reason!”  
   
“So you made a picnic and decided it would be a good idea to go _stargazing_. When it’s practically freezing outside.”  
   
“Haha, well, yeah! Winter is the best time to go! Haven’t you gone stargazing before?”  
   
Taking a long, annoyed drag on his cigarette, Gokudera eyes Yamamoto over the tip of his raised nose. “I was always under the impression that stargazing is for sissies and idiots with their heads up in the clouds.” He exhales a small cloud of smoke, taps the ashes into the ashtray, and adds, “Oh, that’s right, you _are_ a daydreaming idiot.”  
   
“You only say that because you haven’t gone before,” Yamamoto says. “Come on, it’ll be fun! I even added peppermint schnapps to the hot chocolate—just how you like it.”  
   
Gokudera snorts, but doesn’t even crack a smile. “Jesus, you’re such a girl, Yamamoto,” he says with a sigh, but the tone isn’t as harsh as Yamamoto is expecting. Gokudera drops the stub of his cigarette in the ashtray, blows out the last breath, and stands up to head to the garage. He pauses, looks over his shoulder, and rolls his eyes. “Well, are you coming or not?”  
   
Yamamoto’s grin broadens, and he bounds after Gokudera like an excited puppy.  
   
   
   
   
   
_“Fucking idiot! Goddamn it—come on, come on, wake up!”_  
   
The shaking voice is insistent as it drags him through a haze, ears feeling as if they’ve been stuffed with cotton balls. Bleary eyes blink open, blink away bits and pieces of blur; the moon is almost too bright to make out the stars overhead. _It’s a clear night tonight_ , is the first thing he thinks. The second is, _Oh yeah, stargazing. Haha, did I fall asleep?_  
   
A silhouette of a head appears in front of the bright, bright moon. He blinks again, noticing that the silhouette sports a small ponytail amidst a myriad of wild, loose pieces of hair.  
   
“Y-Yamamoto?” Relief bleeds into the familiar tone. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”  
   
Yamamoto grins, but it quickly turns to a grimace as sharp pain stabs through his side. He sucks in a harsh breath in confusion and tries to look to see what’s causing his nerve endings to go on strike against him. A hand firmly pushes his shoulder back against whatever it is he’s lying on (it’s soft, but slightly damp—grass?), as another hand stays his own curious, probing fingers.  
   
“Don’t touch it,” comes the stern order.  
   
_Don’t touch what?_ Yamamoto can’t seem to speak past the cottony feeling left in his mouth. As his eyes adjust to the light, he can see that Gokudera’s eyes are loaded with concern as they stare down at his abdomen. There’s a brief rustle of cloth, and it’s all the warning Yamamoto gets before the pressure strikes up sparks in his vision with immense pain. His teeth feel like they’re about to crack, he’s clenching his jaw so tightly.  
   
It takes a beat or two of confusion before Yamamoto remembers that no, they weren’t stargazing—they were on a mission. A mission that was… going rather well, wasn’t it? What went wrong? A wave of pain steals his train of thought away with a sharp gasp.  
   
“Sorry—I’m sorry,” Gokudera says, voice tight and high with growing panic. “I-I’m trying to stop the bleeding. Just… stay with me, Yamamoto.”  
   
Yamamoto grits his teeth, eyes drifting past Gokudera’s shoulder. “It’s a n-nice night out tonight, isn’t… isn’t it?” he gasps out, trying to smile. “Th’stars—can see them c-clearly. S’pretty.”  
   
A pained moan escapes Gokudera’s thinly-pressed lips, his fingers tensing and pressing more insistently into the wound. It hurts so badly that Yamamoto can barely breathe, much less let Gokudera know he’s in agony. But he doesn’t know if he can say anything to help, because Gokudera’s lips are trembling now and he looks like he’s about ready to break down. Or blow something up.  
   
Trying to speak makes dark spots dance across Yamamoto’s vision, and all he can hear for an agonizing handful of air is the sound of his own blood rushing past his ears. When the sound fades, he can hear Gokudera’s voice wavering as he’s speaking in broken pleas and half-sentences.  
   
“Hang in there, it’s only a few more minutes before—… You have to hang on, Yamamoto. Don’t you—you’re not allowed to— _Jesus Christ_ , how long can they possibly take to get here? Please wake up, please don’t go—”  
   
Yamamoto wants so badly to reassure Gokudera that he isn’t going anywhere, but his side throbs, and he feels his strength leaving him more with each heartbeat. He can’t quite draw in breath, his mouth gasping for air, his vision’s edges darkening until all he’s left with is a tunnel vision with Gokudera at the center. He tries to draw on that for strength, tries to listen to and obey Gokudera’s pleading voice.  
   
It’s too hard.  
   
_“Don’t fade away, please don’t—”_  
   
I’m sorry.  
   
   
   
   
   
Yamamoto stabs a finger toward the sky, tracing an invisible line carefully across the sky. “Isn’t that the Big Dipper?” he asks.  
   
Gokudera looks over at Yamamoto before rolling his eyes and replying, “No, idiot, that’s Orion’s Belt. See? There’s the rest of Orion.”  
   
“… Oh.” A beat, and he points his finger in the other direction. “ _That’s_ the Big Dipper.”  
   
“You’re just making shit up now,” says Gokudera, annoyed. “The Big Dipper is over _there_ , see? And wow, it even looks like a dipper! Amazing.”  
   
“Haha, are you being sarcastic?”  
   
Gokudera sighs. “Are you being a moron on purpose?”  
   
With a shrug, Yamamoto looks back skyward and smiles. A few moments pass in silence as Yamamoto watches the skies with a smile on his face.  
   
“That’s Ophiuchus, isn’t it? The constellation with the serpent-holding healer guy?” Yamamoto says, after a few moments.  
   
“Oh for the love of—” Gokudera begins to say, but then he looks where Yamamoto is pointing. “… Yeah, that’s Ophiuchus.” A pause, and then, “So you _did_ pay attention during that one mythology class. Stop pretending to be an idiot.”  
   
Yamamoto’s grin widens. “Haha, Ophiuchus is my favorite constellation, so I remembered it.”  
   
“I didn’t know you had a favorite,” says Gokudera. He grunts. “Any particular reason?”  
   
“It represents a healer, doesn’t it? The guy figured out how to stave off death, but the gods wouldn’t let him save mankind by making humans immortal, so they took him out. Gave him a place in the stars for trying to do something good, though.”  
   
Gokudera hums in affirmation, then replies, “Yeah, that’s one of the stories behind Ophiuchus.” He pauses before he adds, “So you like stories about guys who get killed off for doing the right thing?”  
   
“Haha, that’s a funny way of looking at it!”  
   
Clucking his tongue in annoyance, Gokudera crosses his arms. “How the hell is that funny?” he snaps.  
   
Yamamoto ignores the comment and instead says, “The gods still gave him a place in the stars—they kinda gave him what he was trying to offer the world, y’know? Immortality and all.” He motions to the sky with his chin, eyes gleaming. “Now he gets to watch the world go by from up there.”  
   
What he _doesn’t_ say is the fact that the traits for Ophiuchus remind him of Gokudera—explosive temper, passionate, secretive, a love for learning—but that’s only stuff for people who think it’s actually part of the Zodiac. The resemblance is something Yamamoto keeps to himself; it’s not like Gokudera would appreciate the parallel.  
   
Gokudera watches Yamamoto with a sidelong glance. “Huh. That was… surprisingly deep, for an idiot,” he says, his voice significantly softer. He settles back against the blanket, staring back up at the sky without another word.  
   
Yamamoto doesn’t look back, keeps his eyes on the stars above, but he’s still smiling.  
   
   
   
   
   
The haze of pain lifts under the spell of Gokudera’s ringtone. He knows it’s Gokudera’s ringtone because he remembers asking him about the pretty piano song that plays every time the Storm Guardian’s mobile rings. There’s a rustle of cloth, and a sharp intake of breath before the phone is opened with a plastic click and a slight jingle of phone charms clinking together.  
   
“Where the fuck are you?” He sounds angry, upset—like he’s almost at the end of his rope.  
   
It takes a few moments of just concentrating on breathing _in and out, in and out_ before his fogged-over mind remembers where he is.  
   
“No, I told you—he’s been shot, I can’t stop the bleeding, and you were supposed to be here _five minutes ago_!” Yamamoto tries to open his eyes, wondering why whoever Gokudera is talking to isn’t answering, then he remembers— _oh yeah, mobile_. “This is _serious_ , dammit! Just—just get here as soon as you can. _Please_.”  
   
There’s a _click_ as the phone gets violently snapped shut, and it’s then that Yamamoto finally manages to coerce his eyelids to open. His side still aches, but he’s alive. The stars are still twinkling brightly above in the sky, though his vision’s a little blurry and it makes them look streaky. But the constellation he’s staring straight at is unmistakable. If he had more confidence in speaking, he’d chuckle—it’s silly, but it gives him a little hope.  
   
“Yamamoto? Are you with me?” Gokudera’s voice sounds strained, but so hopeful.  
   
Yamamoto swallows thickly and grimaces—his throat feels like it’s in shreds—but manages to grin (he thinks) and say, “H-Hey.”  
   
Cloth rustles, and Gokudera’s face is again in Yamamoto’s line of sight. The Storm Guardian’s forehead is scrunched in a worried frown, as his fingers move to grab onto Yamamoto’s hand.  
   
“Try not to talk too much. The medic’s on the way,” he says. He seems a lot calmer than he was earlier, though he looks frustrated and exhausted. “You hanging in there?”  
   
Yamamoto stares back up at the sky and sees Asclepius winking back down at him from the stars. “Yeah. I-I think… it’ll be okay.” The pain flares up again, and he hisses through clenched teeth.  
   
Biting his lip, Gokudera’s hands shake as they grip Yamamoto’s hand tighter. He looks so upset that it hurts, somewhere deep where bullets could never penetrate.  
   
“H-Hey,” Yamamoto says, and shakily tries to point up to the sky. “It’s… it’s Ophiuchus, h-haha.”  
   
Gokudera looks up, following where Yamamoto’s finger is pointing. He snorts softly. “Of course you’d notice something like that, you girl,” he chides gently.  
   
“Maybe h-he’s just lookin’ out f-for me.” Yamamoto swallows hard, forcing the thick nasty stuff trying to sneak its way up his throat back where it belongs. Gods but it hurts. “S’don’t worry.”  
   
“I’m not worrying, idiot. And stop talking.”  
   
He tries to say more, but whatever it was coming up his throat is persistent. Coughing painfully, he feels it ooze into his mouth. The stars spin and tilt in a dizzying pattern overhead.  
   
“Jesus Christ—” Gokudera hisses angrily and hooks his hands under Yamamoto’s shoulders, pulling him more upright so that his back rests against Gokudera’s chest. In the haze of Yamamoto’s buzzing thoughts, he notices that Gokudera’s heart is pounding so heavily that he can feel it.  
   
“S’fine,” he tries to say, but the words come out in a confused jumble, and he isn’t even sure Gokudera hears him.  
   
“Hang on, hang on—don’t you _dare_ die on me, you idiot,” Gokudera orders him. His voice vibrates pleasantly through his chest, and Yamamoto can’t help but close his eyes and just listen. Gokudera’s phone rings again, and he snaps it open. “Please tell me you’re here, goddamn it—no, no he’s not doing well at all! You fuckers better be here any second, or I’m going to—”  
   
Yamamoto smiles as the world fades out around him again. He isn’t worried in the least, because he has made up his mind that he isn’t going to die. Not yet.  
   
   
   
   
   
“Haha, really? You want to go again?”  
   
Gokudera’s face flushes with bright color, and he looks away and rocks back on his heels as he stands in the doorway to Yamamoto’s apartment. The backs of his knees brush against a plastic bag, in which is a barely-visible outline of a large thermos and a bento. Yamamoto has a sneaking suspicion that there’s a stack of blankets in Gokudera’s car to go with the bag.  
   
“If you don’t feel up to going, then just say so,” he says with a scowl.  
   
Yamamoto winces as he stands up, and Gokudera’s eyes widen as he moves forward to protest. The bag with the thermos drops to the ground. “Stop moving if it’s hurting, you dumbass!” he says, angry and worried and annoyed that he’s showing it. “See, I knew this was a bad idea.”  
   
“No, no, it’s okay!” Yamamoto waves his worrying hands off with a smile. “It’s just a little sore. The doctor said it’s fine, but it’ll hurt for another week, most likely.”  
   
Gokudera glares at him suspiciously. “Are you _sure_ you’re up for this?” he asks, tone serious. “I don’t want to make you do something that you aren’t ready for.”  
   
The grin on Yamamoto’s face broadens. “I would love to go,” he says cheerfully. “I don’t know of anything I’d want to do more right now.”  
   
The color returns to Gokudera’s cheeks with a vengeance, but he huffs and tries to look aloof about the whole thing. He holds out Yamamoto’s jacket and scarf. “You’re still such a girl,” he says, even though it was his idea to go stargazing again.  
   
Yamamoto chuckles (carefully—it still kind of tugs on the stitches in his side uncomfortably), and takes the proffered clothing. He says nothing back, but that’s because he knows he doesn’t need to. Gokudera’s just that way—thoughtful, but never wanting anyone to know that about him because he thinks it makes him look soft. Yamamoto doesn’t feel the need to point out the fact that caring doesn’t make one soft.  
   
   
   
   
   
“Hey, idiot. Are you cold?”  
   
Yamamoto holds up a steaming camping-mug of hot cocoa, one blanket draped over his arm and shoulder as he lifts it. “Nope, I’m good,” he says with a grin.  
   
Gokudera pours himself another mug of cocoa. “Good,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to end up back in the hospital over doing something sissy.”  
   
With a laugh, Yamamoto wiggles and burrows deeper into the blankets, as if it’ll help stave off a potential bout of pneumonia. “Haha, yeah, that wouldn’t be fun at all.”  
   
A few heartbeats pass in silence. Gokudera sets his mug aside (it’s empty again) and leans back into his own stack of blankets with a satisfied sigh. He’s content, and it makes Yamamoto warm just thinking about the fact that Gokudera doesn’t seem so prickly anymore. They’re both simply enjoying the moment that they’re in, free from missions and violence and everything else just long enough to stop and stare at the stars.  
   
It doesn’t happen all that often, after all.  
   
“So which constellation is your favorite?” Yamamoto asks, breaking the silence.  
   
Gokudera looks over at him and smirks. “I don’t play favorites with superstitious western crap, idiot,” he says. A pause, and then he adds quietly, “But Ophiuchus is high on my list of late.”  
   
It takes a second for Yamamoto to realize what Gokudera means by that, but when he does, he can’t help but grin.  
   
“Yeah, me too.” Gokudera won’t know what he means, but the meaning isn’t important to anyone but Yamamoto anyway.  
   
“Idiot, you already said that Ophiuchus was your favorite.”  
   
Yamamoto laughs and says, “Well, I like it even more now.”  
   
“Dumbass.”  
   
With another light laugh, Yamamoto leaves it at that.  
  
  
  
  
**_fin_**


End file.
